


Welcome Home, Champion

by keir



Series: Shance Week 2016 [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Rough Sex, Shance Week 2016, Shance Week 2016: Battle Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:09:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8570968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keir/pseuds/keir
Summary: Shiro hasn't seen Lance since he went missing over a year ago. Neither he nor the rest of the Team Voltron know whether Lance is dead or alive somewhere out there in the universe.But sometimes it's better to be a ghost than the alternative.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Rough seas ahead! Y'all knew I had to have an angsty fic for shance week, right? Finished writing this while high on pain meds, so please excuse any inconsistencies, misspellings, etc.
> 
> EDIT: Forgot to mention that this was heavily inspired by hardlynotnever's art on tumblr! They are an amazing artist who has inspired many of us to torture Lance in a variety of ways. I seriously suggest you check out their art if you haven't seen it yet!

Shiro lifts his head at the sound of the door opening. He doesn't know what time it is; doesn't know what day, or week, or month either. The only thing he knows any more is that they come through that door.

He's had nothing but himself and his memories for however long he's been trapped here. At first he tried to remember only the comforting ones: the thoughts of the other paladins, of home and of all the things he loves.

But thoughts of things he loves means thinking of Lance, means thinking of how he's been gone for so long, captured and taken from him. How he never managed to get him back, doesn't even know if he's alive, though he was always so sure that Blue would somehow let them know if Lance was...gone.

Thoughts of Lance lead to thoughts of the Galra who took him, and thoughts of the Galra lead him to think of the imprisonment he is experiencing for the second time. The old memories haunt him even as he makes new ones from fresh experiences, fresh beatings and druid experimentation. It all goes around and around in his head until he could scream, and maybe sometimes he does.

The door is the only certainty in his world now; whoever is on the other side, he knows that it will always open eventually. He thinks maybe it will be more soldiers because the bruises have faded some and his ribs don't ache as much, so maybe he is due for another beating.

He could never anticipate who walks through the door.

Lance looks just the same as the day he was taken, all lanky limbs and gorgeous face, hair slightly curling at the ends and blue eyes bright. Shiro breathes in and chokes on it, eyes gone round at the sight of a ghost.

Lance isn't a ghost, though. He is a perfectly corporeal being who walks through the door, which closes and locks behind him. His lover's name quivers on the tip of Shiro's tongue and then shakily moves out of his mouth with his next breath. Lance smiles at that, all his teeth just as perfect as ever.

"Hello, Shiro. I've missed you so much."

Shiro shakes against his chair, body overloading with joy and relief, and yet also fear.

Lance is decked from head to toe in Galran garb. The black cloth envelops him, clinging to smooth skin, encasing him from his neck just beneath his chin all the way down to where it meets the top of his boots, which are knee high and heeled, making Lance seem even taller. The only accents on it are glowing purple.

"Lance." Shiro breathes his name like a prayer, like a curse, like a desperate man seeing his lover for the first time in almost a year, which he is. He is so very desperate, so scared that Lance is standing there looking like that. So full of questions and fears. "What happened to you?"

"Oh." Lance smiles a smile that Shiro no longer knows and lets loose a little laugh. "A lot of things." Lance says, dancing around the subject. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Shiro says brokenly. Before he knows it, hot tears are cutting down his cheeks, the first sign of weakness he's shown since his capture.

Lance's heels click against the hard floor, the sound of it echoing in the barren chamber. It's just him and Shiro and the chair he's tied to. "Don't cry," Lance says softly. His hand reaches out, palm smoothing over Shiro’s cheek, thumb wiping at his tears. "We can be together again now."

Shiro stares up into blue eyes he knows so well from hours of gazing at them. He remembers the way they look when Lance rolls over and wishes him a good morning, the skin crinkled at the edges with a sleepy smile. "You have an eacape plan," he says, desperate to hear a yes, desperate to know that everything is going to be okay.

"No." Lance cups Shiro's face in his hands. "I mean that we can be together under the Galra Empire."

Shiro stares in disbelief, feeling as if he's received yet another punch to the gut, but this blow is much worse, so much worse. "No," he chokes out.

"We have everything we need here. We can be together again; Zarkon promised me. You only have to say yes."

"Zarkon." Shiro says it like it's the filthiest word in existence, yanks his face from Lance’s grasp to turn and spit. "I'll never say yes."

Blue eyes go cold and alien as Lance's hands drop, his face losing the small bit of warmth it had. "Never say never, Shiro," he says. He reaches out to push the white lock of hair back into place on Shiro's forehead, and Shiro allows it, though he's strung as tight as a bowstring. "Do you know what they do to me here?"

Shiro's face hardens, his mouth a thin line as the jagged edges of memories surface to cut him again. "They make you fight." He eyes Lance, but can detect no injury.

"No, Shiro. They made you fight. My path amongst the Galra has been very different." Lance lifts a foot, pressing the ball of it against Shiro's knee and pushing it open. "First, there were sweet words and I didn't give in. I was a good little paladin of Voltron. They couldn't break me, I said." Lance's smile is made of vicious pain. "I thought they would throw me in the arena just like what happened to you, but they had other plans." Lance digs the stiletto heel of his boot against Shiro, who doesn't even flinch. "They started by giving me to any Galra who would have me."

It takes Shiro a moment to comprehend what Lance is saying, and when he does, his eyes going wide in horror, Lance smiles. "There was a lot of crying and begging, but it didn't stop. One after another after another, until I couldn't think any more." Lance draws his heel in as he drags it up Shiro's thigh, pushing harder and harder. "It didn't stop until I knew my place, until I would accept my fate."

The boot pauses at the juncture between hip and thigh, digging in hard enough to bruise. "And then Zarkon came for me." Lance says it with a shaky little breath as if remembering something amazing. He leaves off with his heel and presses the front of his boot against Shiro's crotch, rubbing softly. "He gave me pleasure."

"No," Shiro says, his voice too soft and weak. "No!" he repeats.

"Yes," Lance says, denying his illusions. His foot rubs back and forth, teasing. "I couldn't stop him either, but after a while I wanted it." He lifts his foot away, boot settling in the ground as he goes to sit on Shiro's lap, straddling him. He cants his hips to bring their covered erections together, and Shiro gasps and shivers as he feels that Lance is already hard.

Shiro tries to fight it off, but his body is conditioned by hours and hours of making love to Lance. His breathing comes sharp and fast as his cock begins to swell in his pants. "He promised me release. I wanted it so badly," Lance continues. "I wanted the soft touches he gave because they weren't the hard ones that hurt so much before."

Shiro shakes his head, trying to deny everything, trying to tell himself it's just a dream, it's just a dream, it's just a nightmare, wake up and see the real Lance beside you. Lance opens Shiro's pants and releases his thick, straining cock, fingers dancing lightly over it, catching on the underside of his head the way he's always liked. His lover stares him straight in the eyes as he tells him, "I went to Zarkon's bed willingly after the first time."

"Stop!" Shiro snarls. "Stop it!" He refuses to look at Lance, body trembling. He doesn't want to hear it any more, doesn't want to hear how he failed to keep Lance safe, how his failure has led to the death of Lance's happiness, and with it his own. The salt tang of his own tears burns his tongue.

"He treated me well, for the most part," Lance says. He reaches beneath himself and Shiro can hear the rasp of a zipper's teeth. “He didn't beat me, but he made sure he got what he wanted.”

“Lance.” Shiro says his lover's name like a plea.

Lance slides Shiro's cock into the unzipped hole in his bodysuit, drives it up between his cheeks, cradling it there. Shiro stiffens as he feels his erection glide through lube. Lance leans forward and Shiro tries to pull away as much as he can, but the other man grabs hold of his head, stilling his struggles. Shiro's eyes go wide as he realizes that Lance is strong enough to keep him there, something he wouldn't have been capable of before.

Lances smiles, leaning in and brushing his lips softly against Shiro's stiff ones. He nuzzles against his lover's ear. “He's so big, Shiro,” he whispers, mouthing at the shell of the other man's ear. “I thought he would tear me in half.”

“Stop it, Lance,” Shiro growls.

“It hurt so badly, but I took it. Time after time, I took it.”

“Stop it!”

“I became Zarkon's slut,” Lance murmurs against Shiro's ear, then slides his tongue over it, hot and wet.

“Why are you doing this?” Shiro asks, throat tight.

Lance pulls back, studies Shiro's face as he pets his hair, smoothing it back from his temples. “Because I love you.” Shiro glares at him, but Lance continues, “And Zarkon is offering to give me back to you.”

That caught Shiro's attention. “Zarkon will never let us go.”

“No,” Lance agrees. “He covets power, and that's what you are: pure power.” Lance licks his lips, hands going to squeeze massive biceps as he rocks on Shiro's lap. “He wants you, and he's willing to trade. You need only give yourself up and I'm all yours, now and forever.”

“I'll never go back!” Shiro snarls, violently yanking at his bonds.

“You don't want me any more?” Lance asks, voice breathy. He lifts a hand, unzipping his collar, pulling it down until his chest is bared; he doesn't fail to notice the way his lover's eyes go to his nipples. 

Shiro notices Lance's smile and turns his face away. Lance brings his hands up, fingers plucking at his own nipples, exploiting his lover's weakness. He moans softly, rocks his hips, enjoying the slide of the thick cock between his cheeks. “I want you, Shiro. Please.”

“No,” Shiro denies. 

“You would abandon me to him? Leave me at Zarkon's mercy?”

“It's not like that, Lance. You don't know what you're asking of me!” Shiro strains against his restraints, muscles bulging.

“Shiro…”

“I won't do it,” Shiro snaps, shocking the man on top of him. “I'll never go back.”

The playful light in Lance's eyes dies. “What do you think my punishment will be, Shiro?” Grey eyes bore into blue as Lance clenches his cheeks around Shiro's length. “Will Zarkon just fuck me until I bleed and beg him to stop?” Lance touches Shiro's lips, dragging the bottom one down with his fingertips. “Or will he finally end it? After all, if I'm unable to secure the Champion, I'm useless to him.” Lance cups Shiro's face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “What do you think, Shiro?” 

“Don't do this,” Shiro begs, voice cracking.

“You have a choice, Shiro. Choose me.” Lance pressed himself against his lover.

“I can't!” Shiro breathes harder, chest rising and falling harshly. The memories threaten to overwhelm him and he swears he can smell the scent of blood in the air.

“You can. Take me. Claim me as yours.”

Shiro stares up helplessly at his lover. “I can't  again,” he begs, voice rough. “Don't make me, Lance. Please.”

“Fuck me, Shiro,” Lance demands, fingers digging into cheekbones now. “Fuck me or I'll go get it from Zarkon.”

“You're lying!” Shiro snaps.

“I'm not. I crave it now.” Lance rocks his hips, breath shuddering out as the cock rubs against his hole. “They did things to me and now I crave it, Shiro.” The black paladin tries to turn his face sway, but Lance holds him steady again. “I want to be filled, and if that means it's with Zarkon's cock, then so be it.”

“Don't you dare,” Shiro says softly.

“I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. I was busy thinking about being fucked by--”

“I said don't you dare!” Shiro snarls. He looks up at Lance, eyes blazing with fury, and Lance's face melts into a look of pure lust.

“Then take me,” Lance breathes softly. “Claim me, Champion.” The former blue paladin reaches around and presses his finger to the pad on the other man's bonds.

Lance gasps as Shiro surges forward. He grasps at broad shoulders as strong hands dig into his thighs. Shiro stands and rushes forward, slamming Lance against the wall. Lance gasps in surprise and then groans as Shiro's familiar thickness breaches him. His legs automatically lock around his lover, pulling his hips close.

Shiro growls, tearing at Lance's bodysuit, pushing it out of the way as he attacks perked dark brown nipples. Lance arches, offering it up as a sacrifice to Shiro's brutal mouth, whimpering as teeth clench down on it, tugging and stretching and worrying at it. His fingers bury themselves in coarse black hair as he begs Shiro to move.

Shiro bites Lance's chest hard enough to bruise deeply, and then he straightens, grey eyes wild. Lance's blue reflect the same, reflect the same despair deep within. “Take me, Shiro,” Lance repeats, lips parted and pupils blown wide.

Shiro says nothing, just starts thrusting. Lance clutches at him as he plunges deep, taking as much as possible. He cants his hips to allow better access, fingers clutching at Shiro's shoulders.

Taking the offer, Shiro slams forward brutally. Lance cries out raggedly as Shiro's girth forces him open with violent familiarity. He can feel his touch deep inside, rejoices at the first touch he has chosen in so long; he can barely remember what it's like to choose this, to enjoy it. Shiro buries his face against Lance's neck, biting and sucking with fervor. Lance brings a hand to cradle the back of his lover's head, to stroke his sweaty nape while murmuring how much he loves him, how right it feels to be filled like this.

Shiro's hands roam over Lance's body, fingers shaking as he reacquaints himself with his lover's body. So many nights spent awake, woken by violent nightmares, not knowing where Lance was or if he was even alive… His skin feels so hot, so soft beneath the new scars. Every time Shiro discovers a new one, he chokes back pain, pushes it into the thrust of his hips as he tries to reach the very core of Lance. His lover's sighs and moans leave him weak and desiring more.

“I know you're close,” Lance moans. Shiro lifts his head to look into blue eyes. “I can feel you swelling inside me, so big.” Shiro's cock twitches in response, making his lover buck against him. “So good. You're so good, Shiro.”

“Lance, I…” Shiro's voice cracks as he is overwhelmed by it all. “I failed you.”

Instead of answering, Lance crushes their lips together, and then they become a tangle of hot breath and tongues as Shiro's hands find Lance's ass, squeezing hard, pulling the cheeks apart just the way he knows his lover likes.

“Come in me, Shiro,” Lance demands, wet lips against wet lips. “Claim me.”

Shiro chokes on a sob. “Are you really mine?”

Lance kisses Shiro again, hands caressing his lover's neck. “I always have been.”

With those words, Shiro finds his release. His pelvis presses up as tight as it can against Lance's ass as he relives the sensation of making Lance his. His lover kisses at his jaw and throat and his hands caress his lower back as pleasure pulses through his body. He adds to Lance's heat, shooting his seed deep, making a wet, sticky mess of his insides. Lance suddenly shudders and gasps against his ear, body squeezing and milking Shiro of all he has to give.

Shiro presses his face into the crook of his lover's neck in the aftermath, both of them shaking and panting and sweaty. Lance holds him close, a hand cradling the back of his head as he presses his lips to an ear.

“Welcome home, Champion.”

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me at keirdark on tumblr!


End file.
